Power of Love: Endgame
by rke
Summary: Just a quick drabble, the end of the series.  No book 7 spoilers.


So I know that in a few hours time this will be completely irrelevant but it was stuck in my head and needed to get out.

My take on the end of the Harry Potter series.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, JK Rowling is a goddess.

"When the power of love overcomes the love of power, then we will know peace." -Jimi Hendrix

* * *

"Protego!" Harry cried, rolling to the side as yet another of Voldemort's curses was deflected away from him. His vision blurred as sweat mingled with blood, dirt and grime, the essence of war. He hastily got to his feet, pointing his wand towards his face and muttering 'reparo', repairing his fractured glasses for what seemed like the fifth time in less than an hour. Voldemort's cold, harsh laugh reached his ears, drawing his attention back.

"Look at them." He laughed again. "It never ceases to amaze me how you and your friends, mere _children_, continue to believe that you can defeat me, Lord Voldemort."

Harry cast a nervous glance to the side. He caught a glimpse of red hair that was unmistakably Ron's, and heard Hermione cast the shielding charm on his other side.

"But then again, they always were following you blindly into trouble, weren't they Potter?" Harry focused back on Voldemort, hatred radiating all throughout him. "It's a shame. In a few hours time they'll all be dead, and all," he paused, drawing out each word as if taunting Harry, "for nothing."

"First off," Harry retorted, gripping his wand even tighter, "they won't be dead! Secondly, even if they are, it won't have been for nothing!"

Voldemort's face split into a menacing grin. "We shall see," and he lazily flicked his eyes to Harry's left. "_Avada Kedavra."_

Harry had no time to react before a jet of green light shot past him. He faintly registered the fact that he was screaming as he turned to see Ron arch his back slightly before falling, seemingly in slow motion, to the ground. A blood curdling scream let rent through the air behind Harry as he dropped to his knees beside his best friend and soon Hermione was crumpling against him, sobs wracking her body. Harry had only just wrapped his arms protectively around her when a cold hand grasped his neck and pulled him up from his knees to where his feet could barely graze the ground.

"Do you see?" Voldemort hissed, his face inches from Harry's. "Do you see now the fear that I inspire, Harry Potter?" Harry felt his head swim as his air supply was cut off. "Do you see the fear that you _should _have felt since the day you learned my name?"

Harry struggled to maintain consciousness. He could still hear Hermione's cries of anguish behind him. He too felt like screaming, like breaking down, like giving up. He had already lost so many people to the bastard standing in front of him; and now Ron, his best friend, his confidante, his strength. Suddenly Harry felt as if a fire and been lit inside him. A warmth was spreading, his vision was clearing, Voldemort's grip on him lessening.

"You know what I see?" Harry said, leveling his gaze while slowly reaching inside his pocket. "I see a pathetic excuse for a wizard." Voldemort threw his head back and let a cold, harsh laugh escape his throat.

"And?" He asked.

"And," Harry continued, "you killed my parents, you killed Sirius, you killed Dumbledore, and you killed Ron, my best friend. I loved them...all of them and _that_ is something that you can _never_ take away from me!"

With that, Harry flicked open the dagger Sirius had given him and plunged it into Voldemort's chest, where anyone else's heart would have been.

For a moment Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise, before his face melted into a maniacal smile.

"Foolish boy!" He spat. "Did you really think that a simple pocket knife would defeat me?"

"Course not." Said Harry simply, and he withdrew the knife only to replace it with his wand. This time Voldemorts snake-like eyes narrowed suspiciously before widening suddenly as if knowing what was coming, and perhaps he did.

"_Avada Kedavra._"

Voldemort shot backwards, as did Harry, who plowed into Hermione before coming to rest with her on his chest, still fighting to control her tears.

"Harry? What-," she started, but Harry gently eased her aside and got to his feet. He stared across the field where a head of robes lay, unmoving. Several people had stopped fighting and were now watching him intently.

Harry started towards the figure, gaining speed with each step. All too soon, he was standing over the body. He hesitated, but only a second, before rolling it over with his foot. Wide, eyes stared up at the sky, any resemblance to a snake gone, as Harry gazed into the lifeless face of none other than Tom Riddle.

He didn't know how long he stood there, but soon voices were filling the air.

"It's over, it's over!"

"He's done it! Voldemort's dead!"

Several small pops could be heard as the remaining Death Eaters tried to dissapperate.

Harry vaguely noticed his feet carrying him back to the spot where Ron's body lay, now surrounded by his remaining family. He knelt down among them and placed a hand on his old friends shoulder, finally allowing himself to feel more than a decades worth of grief.

"Oh Harry." Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head in his chest. He held her tightly and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. "You did it." He heard her say.

He _had_ done it. He had defeated Lord Voldemort. He had defeated the most evil wizard known to man. He had won the war and although he had lost many friends along the way, he had come out virtually unscathed, save for a thin, lightening-bolt shaped scar.

* * *

End 


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